


The Piano Tree

by CaffieneKitty



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Art Snark, Community: watsons_woes, Gen, Humor, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-25
Updated: 2014-07-25
Packaged: 2018-02-10 08:48:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2018694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaffieneKitty/pseuds/CaffieneKitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They don't know art, but they know what they like.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Piano Tree

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [**watsons_woes**](http://watsons-woes.livejournal.com/) July Writing Prompt #5: [Makes the music mute - Picture prompt](http://watsons-woes.livejournal.com/1072529.html).

"Hm." John tilted his head and squinted at the framed photograph of a tree apparently growing out of a piano. "It's... a metaphor for something."

"For what?" Sherlock said, half his attention on the reflection of the room visible in the glass of the next displayed photo along the wall; a black and white study of a muddy glove sticking out of a sewer drain. Aside from their target, Sherlock thought it was the least annoying thing on the walls of the art gallery. It looked like a crime scene photo. Right now however it was serving admirably as a rear-view mirror.

"Art, music," John waved a vague hand toward the photo, "creativity nourishes life?"

Seeing the motion they'd been waiting for in the reflection, Sherlock smirked, then pulled a thoughtful mock-frown of art-appreciation and examined the photograph in question. Tree in a piano. Sheer nonsense.

"Hm." Sherlock hummed gravely. "If a tree plays Vivaldi's _'Spring'_ in a forest, will anyone applaud?"

A snicker burst from John before he cleared his throat and put on his blandest face. "I feel I should say something clever now about maple keys."

"Please don't feel compelled to do so on my account," Sherlock said with a dry grin, catching motion behind them in the reflection.

"Can I 'elp you gentlemen?" said the gallery curator, looming up.

"Ah, yes," Sherlock said as he and John turned simultaneously. "We're here to tell you that the Monet you have on offer in the sales room is as fake as your accent, and that your buyer is no longer interested in it, but the Art and Antiquities Division of Scotland Yard very much _is_."

The man's eyes went wide before he squeaked, turned and fled toward the back of the gallery.

"And now we run."

-.-.-  
(that's it.)


End file.
